Shadow in the Sun
by ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo
Summary: High School AU:"It's just... The colorful veins in marble run deep and dark." He lives to fix problems, she thinks she's past repair. They're an odd pair, but somehow they work. É/E, M/C. One-sided R/E and É/M. É/R friendship. (Also in books)
1. the Rose and the Thorn

**Note: I have posted this before! Due to the fact that I started it off on the wrong foot and I lost most of my readers because of the lack of É/E interaction, I'm reposting but cutting out parts and making the plot move a little faster. This chapter is an introduction of Éponine, Marius, Gavroche, and (briefly) Enjolras. **

**(Also in books as 'Shadow in the Sun')**

One thought kept her going on those hot, summer nights that time before her freshman year. She thought of music. There was a time when music was in her parents' life. Take one look at her name, Éponine. No one but a Les Mis fan would name her that, and this spurned a daydream in her head of her parents, young and in love. She imagined that they lived on the road, always traveling the country, stopping in record stores and broadway shows when they had spare money. They only stopped when... When Éponine was born. With that unhappy ending to her content moment, she was dragged roughly back to her unfortunate reality.

Her skin was covered in a silky layer of sweat, dirt, and tobacco. Her boyfriend's hot breath met that layer, having little to no effect on the young girl. He kissed her neck and tried to slide that damned hand of his up her tattered t-shirt, but she pushed him away, mumbling, "That's 'nuff, 'Parnasse."

He growled and stormed out of the trailer, but not before pushing her to the ground with those hands she hated so much, and the force put into the push would surely cause her delicate skin to bruise.

Her father was curled around a bottle of rum, asleep on the floor, and Azelma was tangled in the covers of the single bed, taking up the entire space. Éponine couldn't find the heart to move her. Instead, she rubbed the impending bruise with a sigh and gently took the bottle from her father's drunk grasp.

Of course. Empty.

She slipped her careful fingers into his pocket, and she removed a twenty dollar bill, probably the only money they had in the world.

A college student had parked an RV close to their decrepit trailer, and there was a chance that he could at least pass as 21 and buy them some more alcohol. She'd conversed with him briefly, and he'd mentioned a roommate, who could easily be older.

She ran a few fingers through her knotted hair and pulled down her tiny, threadbare shorts that doubled as underwear during the school year. Thinking herself to look a little less of a wreck, she knocked on the door.

The kid, Courferyac, answered the door and smiled at her. "Hey, Éponine, what can I do for you?"

Éponine actually went by 'Ponine, or at least she would if she had any friends. Montparnasse never called her anything, just allowed her to be silent as he talked to her dad and ran a snaking hand up her leg. Her sister, Azelma, had a glassy look in her eyes and seemed incapable of thinking anything. Her brother called her Ép, whenever he bothered to stop by. Her dad called her by her full name, but he said it mockingly, poking fun at his dead wife.

"Can you buy me some alcohol?" She asked in a rush, scared that he would think her odd.

Instead, he laughed kindly and shook his head. "I'm only eighteen, my roommate is sixteen and you're like in eighth grade, kid."

"Nah, that's my sister. I'm in high school. And anyway, don't try to tell me that you ain't got a fake ID or something! Please!" She said, and he looked hesitant. "And it's not for me, it's for my dad. If he wakes up and finds out that Parnesse drank all his rum, he'll be pissed." She lied, smiling sweetly at the older boy, who pushed a curl behind his ear. He sighed and stepped aside to let her wait in the RV.

Courferyac said, "Alright, but do you have money? I'm broke and can barely afford coffee for myself."

She handed him the twenty and turned to view the inside of the RV. There was the roommate, looking curiously at her, his dark hair just brushing his shoulders in a shaggy haircut that was unlikely to work on anyone else. His blue eyes were shining and sweet, and he had a gentle but fleeting smile that blew her away, and for the first time, Éponine 'Jondrette' knew what love was.

* * *

Gavroche inhaled deeply. He was a smart kid, despite his shabby appearance, and there was a reason for that. He lived in a library.

The smell of the books was overwhelming and comforting. Gavroche always felt at home there, in the Plumet Street Library. There was a clothes donation bin in the parking lot, and an aquatic center with showers just down the road, so he wanted for nearly nothing. Even food was somewhat accounted for.

There was a group that met every Thursday during the summer in the park across the street from the high school. He started hanging out with them, and the only reason the fifth grader wasn't shooed away was because the leader, who went by his last name (Which Gavroche found odd), thought that he was a charity case. They always had pizza and Enjolras would bring Gavroche organic granola bars that tasted like cardboard. He didn't know what they met for, all he knew was the food.

All he had to worry for was how to feed himself once his little stash ran out around Tuesday.

It was a good life. Every now and then he would check in on his family, the one who seemed not to care for him. He had two older sisters- one stupid and one pathetic. Both were abused by his father. He had been slightly surprised at the news of his mother's death the previous year, but soon forgot about the uncaring woman.

He felt bad for his 'pathetic' sister, Éponine. She did what she could to survive. He would see her at a restraunt nearby with a high school senior who even Gavroche knew was a dickwad. She hated her 'boyfriend' with every fiber of her being. It was obvious, and even Montparnasse seemed to know it, smirking whenever she flinched at his touch. She was whoring herself out, for he payed her with food everyday, and she would save half of it for their sister.

Ép was the one who was kindest to him, often stopping by the library just to share a few quiet minutes reading by his side before she was required to assist their father in his shenanigans. Gavroche didn't know what was going on with Azelma.

He couldn't wait for school to start. He once brought the principal by his trailer when his dad was at 'work', just so she could see the poverty that he 'lived' in. Because of this, the clever Gavroche got free meals at school.

In a way, the homeless boy lived better than his sisters who were always loved more than he was. Gavroche was a happy kid, but there was a bitterness to his heart, because of his early years as an unloved child in a household of pain. He never let it show, though, and he'd recently started to give them a chance. He actually smiled at the stupid sister, and he was hanging with Ép more. He would never take a second look at his greedy father, though. Mr. Jondrette would be evil until the moment his soul finally dissolved in the fires of hell.

On a warm Thursday afternoon, Gavroche was on his way to the meeting in the park. Earlier that day, he'd walked into the grocers and pocketed an apple, so he was sinking his teeth into the red skin and crisp, white flesh.

He had a smile on his face and sunshine in his eyes. The day was perfect. He saw Enjolras's golden curls from a distance, and tossed the gnawed-at core to the ground and got ready to attack the leader from behind. It was funny, because Enjolras was something awful close to a statue, and he avoided physical contact as much as possible.

Gavroche sunk his heels in the soft dirt and was about to launch forward when he faltered.

There was a figure that flittered behind the leaves, and most wouldn't notice it, but Gavroche wasn't 'most'. The figure was a tiny flame, hidden by the presence of the fiery young men. A wilted rose, she watched from the shadows with longing. It was Éponine.

He ducked behind the leaves and confronted her. "Ép, what the hell are you doing?"

She obviously wasn't expecting him, and she jumped at his small voice. "God, Gav, don't scare me like that."

She didn't answer his question, though, and instead kept watching the group converse around the old picnic table.

Gavroche rolled his eyes. He would never understand girls, least of all his older sister. Why did she go out with Parnasse when she could go out with one of the Amis? They would buy her food out of the good of their hearts, not for a price she didn't want to pay. And she obviously had her eyes on one of them, because the awe in her expression was very similar to Gavroche's when he saw the extra large pizza box on the table. His stomach growled, and Éponine's did too.

"This is ridiculous." He mumbled, and he put his hand between his sister's shoulder blades and pushed her out. She squeaked when they all turned towards the brother and sister. A couple of them gave odd looks to Éponine, but Enjolras just pulled out the largest piece of pizza and handed it to Grayson.

"Hiya, guys. This is my friend, Ép," He said, strolling forward and pulling her with him. He did his best to ignore her hurt expression when he didn't say they were siblings. With her usually dirty skin under his hand, he could tell that she'd recently taken a shower. Where, he didn't know, but he was proud that she was finally making an effort.

"Oh, hey Éponine!" Called Courferyac, Gavroche's personal favorite member of the group. "We know her, Marius and I live in the RV next door."

"Who the hell is Marius?" Gavroche asked, and Courferyac patted the back of the boy sitting next to him. He looked to be a little younger than the rest, and suddenly Gavroche knew that this was The One. Her pulse practically doubled in speed under his hand.

"Well go on, Ép, take a piece."

She looked at the pizza with a hungry eye, but she shook her head and backed away, looking down and hiding her face with her hair.

"No, I really have to get going. See you soon?" She asked, wanting a 'yes' but prepared for a 'no'. He just shrugged.

She walked away, pulling those awkward shorts down her backside, somehow aware that the entire group was staring at her ass. Except for Grantaire, the drunk, who was staring at Enjolras, surprised that he actually acknowledged a girl's presence.

"Where do I know her from?" Combeferre asked. He almost always spoke in questions, as if daring the world to answer. It was probably his philosophical nature that allowed him to be second in command to Enjolras.

"You know Montparnasse?" Gavroche asked, and a lot of them grumbled in distaste. "She's going out with him."

"That's enough to make her the biggest case in town." Enjolras murmured from his stack of fluttering pamphlets.

The group laughed, but Gavroche stayed silent, because he knew how painfully true it was.


	2. Ghost of the Lark

The teacher made the usual pause, the hesitation before saying her name, as if it was a joke. "Uh... Éponine Jondrette?"

"Here." She moaned, miserably. When they first moved to the area (to flee the police, of course) the name her father came up with was stupid. She didn't know her actual last name, for they moved when she was still quite young, but she knew that Jondrette was fake. And, of course it had to be the same fake last name as a book character, who also shared Éponine's first name.

Her Language Arts teachers always found it interesting, and her French teacher in eighth grade always made her read aloud in class because of it. Most of the time, though, she was alright. But her freshman year, there was an increased number of Les Mis 'fans' because of the upcoming movie. So more teachers made that frustrating pause.

She was still fuming over that when the bell rang and her classmates poured into the halls.

So far, her first day was terrible. She and Parnasse didn't have the same lunch class, so her stomach was completely empty by fourth period. She caught sight of Marius in the halls, and she blushed and looked down. He was with his friends, though, and took no notice of her.

Her flush soon turned angry. She wasn't mad at him, but instead at herself for leaving her heart unguarded so that she fell so pitifully into the hole of infatuation that she had no chance of getting out.

Across the hallway, she saw a senior obviously take a large gulp from a flask that was badly hidden by an empty bag of chips. Éponine walked right up to him and snatched it out of his hand.

"Hey!" He snapped, reaching for it. She pushed his hand away and took several large gulps of a burning fluid that tasted distinctly of vodka. She made a face as the alcohol ticked her brain, and she handed it back to him.

"Sorry, bad first day." She said, not really sorry at all, and the not-so-attractive guy laughed heartily.

"S' fine. Don't blame ya, really. Unrequited love is a bitch." He stuffed the bag into his locker and slammed the door.

"What-"

"Éponine, right? I may be drunk, but I'm not blind. Yeah, hon, you're pretty obvious. Everyone but Marius and Enjolras can see it." He gave her a drunk grin. "But it's alright, because the latter is mine."

"Enjolras... He's the one who seems in charge, right?" She asked, and the kid nodded. Then he stuck out a large hand. She took it with her small, bony one.

"Grantaire. Or R." He thought for a few seconds, and then added. "No'ne calls me R, 'cept myself. It's supp'sed to be a pun. Grand R, as in the cap'tal letter. My parents're... Yeah."

"Well, okay." Éponine gave an uneasy laugh. She WANTED friends, she really did, but she was scared of feeling. That sounds like a silly thing to be scared of, but she had gone so long with her heart under arrest that it was strange and new to have something there other than bitterness and unbearable pain.

She and Grantaire parted at the next fork, and he called over the crowd.

"You should c'me to the m'tings. You'd like 'em."

* * *

Thirty minutes and she still wasn't tired of it. He had a way of sitting in his chair that sent goosebumps up her arms and made her stony face crack into the slightest smile. He pushed his hips forward and slumped back in the chair, sinking into his seat. His arm rested on the window sill and his head was barely up in the cutest, sleepy position Éponine had ever seen anyone take.

She seated herself right behind him, knowing from Parnasse that this teacher made partners based on who was sitting in front of who. (He told her a story about his freshman year where an ugly, fat girl sat behind him and they had to be partners for everything.) There were four people in her row, and she and Marius were the last two.

The teacher was giving the necessary introduction to herself that all the teachers gave, and it had something to do with the time that she'd gone to France.

The class was honors French, second year. Since Éponine had a natural knack for French, she was in a sophomore class. Apparently Marius must have struggled the year before, for he was a junior among the rest of them.

She should have been paying attention, but instead she was focused on the pieces of his hair that brushed her desk. She wanted to touch his long, dark hair. She wanted to run her fingers through it and watch as he smiled at her because in this fantasy world, HE LOVED HER.

Again drawn back to reality, she sighed and looked out the window. A father and daughter walked across the street, her hand placed on his arm, and her perfect hair flowing behind her in the light wind. She had a flawless body and designer clothes that Éponine couldn't think about wearing in her wildest dreams. She was tall and slim, but lacked little in curves. Guys probably stared at her wherever she went, Éponine thought. She probably didn't have to buy make up just so that the bruises were less obvious. She had a father who loved her, who bothered to teach her things.

The girl disappeared behind a brush of leaves, and since her appearance didn't scream 'ditch school', Éponine knew that she must be homeschooled to be walking around with such ease at noon. She turned her attention back to Marius, who was looking fixedly at the spot where the girl disappeared. He had the most curious little crinkle above his nose, as if he was thinking very hard.

Several minutes later, as the class was preparing to hear the bell, the girl and her dad came back around the corner. When her face came into view, Éponine's jaw dropped. There was no denying the resemblance. She KNEW her. Somehow, their separate paths had diverged from the inn only to meet up again in a New York suburb.

She was so intently looking at her long-lost foster sister that she didn't notice Marius doing the same. If she had, the blow would be lessened when he turned around and asked her, "Do you know her?"

The statement itself was harmless, innocent. But the love that bursted in each syllable was the blade on the knife.

She snorted. "Why on earth would I know her?"

Marius shrugged. "I thought that she seems your age, and all girls know each other."

"Well, I don't." She snapped, suddenly wanting to see that Grantaire kid again, even if it was only to get a drink. "Besides, if I did know her, how would that help you?"

"You could tell me where to find her again."

The bell rung and Marius cast a long glance at the window before leaving Éponine alone in the back corner, her heart breaking.

"Cosette." She whispered, knowing perfectly well that he couldn't hear her. "Her name is Cosette."

**A/N: Oohhhh! Cosette's in the house! Okay, so I will say that this is a VERY slow burn, but Enjolras is at least MENTIONED in every chapter. How do you think they'll come face-to-face?**

**and, I hate being that person who won't update without reviews, but I am. So please, two reviews on this chapter! All you lovely followers make me happy, but nothing matches up to that warm feeling you get when you receive a Review!**


	3. My New Scar

Azelma was one of them.

That's all Éponine could think as she rocked back and forth on the floor, her knees tucked against her chest, her face bleeding and her wrist stinging from the latest 'punishment'. Montparnasse was a disturbing young man with thoughts enough to make even the most repulsive person shudder. He didn't daydream of love like Marius, who tortured Éponine in his own way, instead he dreamt of new ways to hurt people. And he put those dreams to use on her.

His latest idea was horrific and painful and left her with a terrible scar up her wrist. She'd bandaged it as best she could, but the pain was overwhelming.

He had one of her father's friends press ice to her skin until her delicate forearm was numb and pink and blue around the edges. She struggled, but Montparnasse held down her arm and everyone else held down the rest of her. (One of them made a point of pressing her breasts.) Then Brujon drew Montparnasse's pocket knife, and sliced up the numb area. She felt nothing- could only watch as blood burbled to the surface of her skin. Then her dad took his lighted cigarette and pressed up the frozen skin until it went back to normal. And, with normal came extreme pain. Éponine could usually endure it, but this time she curled into a ball and screamed, screamed into her knees so as to not make Courferyac hear as he had in the past.

Azelma had started to leave with them once they finished their torture session, holding the knife. Éponine was confused. Usually, Azelma was right after her and they would be left to hold each other as the pain ebbed. She called, weakly, for her sister.

"Azelma?"

The eighth grade girl stopped, her shoulders quivering. Montparnasse rubbed her back, and nodded at Éponine. Confused, the older girl backed up until her back was pressed against the metal wall and her sister followed, walking slowly. Her sister's pale, gaunt face and her matted raven hair made her seem like something from a ghost story- most certainly not anything from this world. Azelma knelt beside her sister, glassy, dark eyes revealing nothing. Éponine reached out with her shaking hand to touch the girl's face, but then there was a flash of silver and an excruciating sting on her cheek. Azelma stood up and left the trailer, Montparnasse's pocket knife coated in fresh scarlet blood.

And she was left alone, not bothering to do anything with the gash on her face. It was still gushing blood, the warm liquid rolling down her face and splattering on the covers that she had tucked around her. She was shirtless underneath, and this was only due to wanting to preserve the somewhat-clean shirt.

She was too busy crying that she didn't hear the creaking door open or the gasp that came with it. She did hear the boyish yelp, though.

"Ép! Oh, god, what happened!" Gavroche crossed the room in a few running steps and ended by her side. He gently tilted her chin up and took in the bleeding cut on her face. He flinched, and pressed his jacket sleeve to it.

"Nothing worse than usual." She smiled, weakly, just as someone else came bounding into the trailer.

"Gavroche, what's-" It was a voice that struck her to the bone, and she had to refrain from shivering. She pulled the ratty blanket closer to her body and looked up at the boy who was coming towards her.

"Hey, Marius." She said, softly, and he staggered back at the sight of her face.

"Good God, what happened?"

Éponine chuckled a humorless laugh, one that Marius (in his innocence) didn't find odd but one that scared Gavroche.

"Oh, I just gave myself a little paper cut. I'm fine, really."

Marius shook his head, and Éponine couldn't help but notice how attractive he was when he was worried.

"No, at least let me call over Joly to take a look at it. He fancies himself a medic."

Marius left to go get his friend, and Gavroche reached for her hand. When he saw the bloody bandage, he gaped.

"They've gone too far. Just run with me, Ép. With you and me, anywhere will be home." Gavroche said, gently, but Éponine's eyes were fearful.

"I can't escape. Montparnasse'll be able to get me from school. They'll FIND me, do you understand?"

Gavroche nodded, worried. Marius came back up the little stairs, with a young, nervous looking man who seemed shocked at the state of her living place. He had neatly combed hair that was a few shades lighter than Éponine's, and he wore a spotless white button-up and skinny jeans. He had with him a little sewing kit, and his hands shook with each movement. As he came towards her, he walked carefully as if he was scared to touch anything.

"Marius, Gavroche, you should go back to the RV. I'll make sure she's okay." He said, softly. He smiled warmly at her, which put a little less pressure on her fluttering heart, but she didn't want Marius to go.

Joly gingerly mopped up the blood and held a paper towel to the cut. He drew the needle and very carefully began to stitch her face back up. She winced at the first penetration, but after that she was still, for it was definitely not the worst thing that had happened to her.

Once he was finished, Joly stepped back to admire his handiwork. "It's actually stitched up really well, if I say so myself. It'll show, but if you put enough make up on it won't be too bad. You know that you're my first ever patient, right?"

She tried to smile at him, to thank him, but her face went slack and he looked away.

"Okay, Miss Jondrette," he said, and she guffawed a little at this, but he continued. "I'm not as naive as Marius. I know that this wasn't a paper cut. Just be careful, okay?"

They sat in silence for a while, the atmosphere too heavy to bear. Finally, Joly nodded at her and seemed ready to leave, but he reached out as if expecting a hug. She tucked back, eyes wide.

"Sorry!" He apologized, stuttering and backing away. Éponine genuinely smiled for the first time that night.

"No, Mister Joly, it's just that I'm shirtless under this."

Joly's expression was the funniest thing she'd ever seen, and his adorably red cheeks became the happy thought that carried her through the night once Montparnasse came back.

* * *

Montparnasse didn't get far with her that night. She was too weak to fight him as she usually did, but as his fumbling hands tried to pull off her shorts, the very drunk boy collapsed on top of her.

She rolled out from beneath him and cast a sad glance at Azelma's slumbering form before she slipped out the door. It was Thursday, nearing the point where one day turns into another but the night's thick veil covers the change.

Éponine wrapped a jacket around herself- a clean, baby blue jacket that at least could act as a shirt, since hers was somewhere in the mess of the trailer. She was pretty sure that it was Joly's, since he had one around his waist when he came in.

She walked, barefoot, to the strip mall. The nights were just starting to get cold, and she regretted not grabbing a pair of shoes. Not expecting anything to be open, she kept walking until she saw that a singular shop was lit up. It was a jewelry store, relatively new and very well-kept. It was aimed towards a younger crowd, for none of the gems were real. There were no claims made that they were genuine, so no one hated the shop owners for the falsity.

Éponine neared the shop, for light draws a moth and she was far too ugly to be a butterfly. She peered inside and marveled at the glimmering way the light danced off the reflective jewelry in the glass cases. She longed to enter the little store, for the wind was gnawing at her back, and her bare legs were freezing to the touch.

Her ratty hair blew up around her face, and the air was whistling a snarky tune in her ear, so she didn't hear the delicate tinkle of the bell as the door opened.

"Why are you standing out here?" A kind voice asked, and Éponine ducked her head, she didn't want to draw any suspicions. "Come on in and look closer, if that's what you want to do."

"I-I-I have no money." She whispered, but the sound was loud enough for the shadow to hear. "And I'd scare off costumers, I'm sure." She said the last part bitterly, and instead of being warded off by her tone the worker tugged at her arm.

"Well at least come in to give me some company. It gets terribly lonely at this time of night."

A reluctant Éponine crossed the threshold, trying not to meet the kind soul's eyes. She stumbled on a slight step into the store, and as she did so, the shadow reached out and caught her by her arm. She cried out in pain, and the beautiful figure apologized profusely, and carefully wound up her sleeve to see the damage.

There was a hissing sound as a breath was drawn. "Good God, what did you do? And you probably tried to bandage it yourself, didn't you? I bet you didn't clean it... Silly girl. I'll be right back."

The figure rushed away to fetch something, and Éponine guiltily slid a faux gold necklace into her pocket. If she gave it to her father he could sell it as a real one and she would be protected from at least a beating or two.

The singular worker came back in the room and gently started to clean and dress Éponine's wound. As the white bandage was wrapped around the cut, the figure spoke again.

"It's not the answer."

Éponine snorted for two reasons at this. It wasn't her choice for this to have happened, and, as she told the bourgeoise worker, "How would you know?"

"Self harm is never the answer, 'Ponine."

"So you do recognize me."

"You hardly look different."

"Can't really say the same to you. It's been a long time, Cosette."

* * *

Éponine couldn't take it anymore. It was nearing the end of October, as indicated by the weather the night before, and she'd endured close to three months of Marius pining over Cosette as she walked by every day. A few times, she looked up and met his eyes with a blush, and Marius would be in a considerably better mood after. Although Éponine loved seeing him happy, the fact that it was caused by another girl hurt her more than anything else.

And, she'd found where he could see her again. She didn't want to tell him, but she couldn't keep a secret from him.

"Okay, class, the person behind you is now your partner in this assignment! You must conjugate all irregular IR verbs!"

At this, her heart started pounding. Marius turned around and smiled slightly at her. "So, I suppose we're partners."

"Yes, I guess we are." She said, her heart leaping in her throat and making it difficult to breathe. "You know, I'm real glad that you and your medic friend were there last night. It really saved my ass. Gavroche is a smart boy, but I'm not sure that he really could stitch up a wound. I definitely couldn't do it! I can't sew to save my life. My mom tried to teach me to sew… It didn't go really well. You know that my mom died, right? She got TB because we lived under a bridge until we got the trailer. There were some nights that I thought about just jumping into the river because I was too hungry. But then I thought about my siblings and I couldn't. Since Azelma's turned fucking unresponsive, I get lonely. Sometimes I walk alone at night just to feel that loneliness at a bigger level. Last night I was walking and-" Éponine looked up, realizing that she'd not only been talking too much but that she'd lost her audience. Desperate for him to notice her, she sighed and got to the point. "The girl… Do you still want to know where you can find her?"

Marius looked up at this, his blue eyes flashing. He grabbed her forearms, and she repressed a shriek at the still-burning pain. After that shock, she was suddenly aware of the beautiful happiness on his face and the fact that he was touching her… He was HOLDING her, in a way. "Éponine, do you know? You have to tell me; I'll give you anything!"

She smiled blissfully at the sound of her name in his mouth. "I like it when you say my name, Marius. Most of the time it sounds awkward and long, but you make it sound exotic-"

"The point, Éponine!" He insisted, leaning close in his passion. Her breathing grew labored, for her daydream was crushed. His excitement wasn't for Éponine… It was for HER.

"Yes, I can try to locate her." She said, stiffly. She withheld from him the fact that she already knew where she worked. She wanted to help him, but she didn't want to destroy her chance at happiness.

* * *

"Where did you get this?" Her father yelled, holding the little gold chain in his hand. Éponine whimpered in fear. His face was close enough to hers that she could see every dirty pore in his thin, gray face.

"Stole it." She said, and his grip tightened around her forearm. "Fig'red you could sell it."

His rare and terrifying grin split his face, and he carefully put the necklace in her palm. "So you're right, Éponine. Hold onto this for daddy, alright? He'll get someone to buy it soon enough."

He backed away, and she sighed in relief. The necklace had saved her, and yet the reality that she stole it bit at her conscience. Cosette, after everything, had been so kind to her. And Éponine had stolen from her.

Sighing, she put the necklace in the pocket of her 'new' pair of jeans. As an 'I'm Sorry That Your Face Got Fucked Up' present, Gavroche had brought her a pair of jeans from the donation box. They were decently clean and fit her well, and although the waist was too big, she solved the issue by tying a string through the belt loops. She still had Joly's jacket. The boy had seen her at school with it on, and although his face contorted in a fashion that suggested that he wanted to ask for it back, he relaxed and instead just nodded at her. He'd seen firsthand of the conditions that she lived in.

Éponine made her way to the door of the trailer, avoiding her father's accusing stare.

"Where are you going, little slut?"

She straightened her back and looked him in the eye. "I'm going for a walk."

"Be back in an hour, Montparnasse'll be here, and he's getting impatient, Éponine." He winked, and there was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She rushed out of the trailer, shivering violently at the sudden wind that could easily sweep the thin girl off the ground, should it wish to do so. Her bare feet dashed to cover the distance to her destination, and as she crossed the parking lot, a flutter of paper caught her eye.

Her quick body and nimble fingers knew what to do. She all but dove for the bill, and squealed in ecstasy when she saw that it was 50$. She pocketed the money and continued on, her smile only somewhat faltering as she neared the little jewelry store. She pulled the little chain out of her pocket and shoved through the door.

The cheerful bell didn't match the force put into each of her angry steps. Although she was quite mad, her expression was one of a person near tears. The girl at the counter looked up, a puzzled but welcoming expression gracing her perfect face.

"'Ponine, what is it?"

"You don't have to call me that. The nickname's supposed to be used by people who like me." Éponine snapped.

"But I do-"

"No you don't." Éponine's voice was strained and her eyes watery as she balled her fists around the chain. Cosette posed no argument; instead she looked at her freshly manicured hands. Éponine continued. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Cosette asked, hesitantly. Éponine knew what she had to be sorry for. She answered the older girl's question by placing the necklace on the counter top.

But there was so much more, and it couldn't be solved by this little confession. Éponine knew in her heart that there was only one way that she could make up for the horrific treatment that Cosette suffered under her parents. And, although it pained her more than any beating, the way was Marius.

Cosette stared blankly down at the necklace, as if trying to register that anyone could commit such a crime as theft. A tight-lipped smile twitched on Éponine's face as she asked, softly.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Cosette looked up, her eyes wide and very confused. She shook her head, and a perfect russet curl rolled from her braid to frame her well-fed cheek. Éponine nodded, a way of goodbye, and left the shop.

* * *

The phone book was filled with tiny numbers and names that hadn't been updated since the late 90's. Éponine was searching for a certain name, the spelling of which she didn't know, and when she found it she cheered silently. The address was printed next to the name, and she gently ripped out the page.

It was night again, as it so often was when she was out, and therefore it was too late to call on Gavroche and spend the night with him. It was times like these when Éponine wished for a friend. She knew that Cosette, being so annoyingly nice, would give her a place to stay, but she couldn't bear to see the face of the girl who stole Marius's heart. Instead, she searched for a near stranger, in hope that kind souls still existed amongst young men.

She found the house with little difficulty and she watched from the street as a light upstairs turned on. She crept closer to the elegant house and peered up. Framed in the lit window, was a curly haired boy. Éponine smiled and started to climb the ivy on the wall. Her weak arms could barely handle the strain, but she somehow managed to make it to the height of the second-floor window. She pulled herself up to perch on the narrow sill, her toes clutching the small space and her knees pressed against the window. With one hand, she clutched a vine for dear life. With the other, she softly knocked.

The boy looked up, surprised. He hurried to the window and eased it open.

"Éponine? What are you-"

"I had a fight with my dad… Is there any chance I could room with you for a night?"

"Are you sure you'll be okay? We've talked once, and for all you know, I could be a rapist." The boy laughed, and despite his unattractive features, he seemed truly handsome when his good-natured side showed. At this response, she looked him dead in the eye.

"You love Enjolras, I love Marius. Our lives are like a fucking opera. I don't think the universe could handle it if you tried something." She said, and he nodded, still laughing. With his help, she slipped into his room like a ghost and looked around at the grandeur of the bedroom.

The ceilings were high and the molding was a rich brown. The bed with teal sheets seemed to be almost on a platform. The floors were mostly clean but for a few discarded items of clothing, and the hardwood felt nice under Éponine's feet. Although the room was pretty undecorated, there was a blown-up picture that took up half of the far wall. It was of the Friends of the ABC, the obscure high school club that was keeping Gavroche alive. There was a neat, almost unused mahogany desk and a mini-fridge.

"Not much, but it's home." Grantaire said, a smirk in his voice.

Éponine crossed her arms and said, bluntly, "I've seen worse."

He looked her up and down; it wasn't in a mean way, it was observant like a scientist would study data. He took in her ratty hair, her dirty fingernails, her bare feet, and the string that held her hair back.

"I believe you." He reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out a Mike's Hard Lemonade. He handed it to her without another word, and then he collapsed into his full bed. Éponine sat on his desk, sipping the alcoholic beverage slowly, trying to prepare herself for the pain that would come the next day. It was going to be a Saturday, so she could avoid Montparnasse and her father until the night. Technically, she hadn't gotten into the fight YET, because she didn't return home after righting her wrong. She had fifty dollars burning a hole in her pocket, and she told herself that things could only get better.

How wrong she was.

She climbed into the bed next to the strange boy, and she looked sleepily at him from the polar end. "You're awake."

"You're observant."

"So I've been told." Éponine giggled a little bit, and after looking at Grantaire's half-closed eyes, she asked, "So you're gay?"

He sighed, and he sank deeper into the soft mattress. "It's not quite that. I've lusted after women, but I've only ever loved my Apollo." Grantaire's words melted into a drowsy groan, and sleep pulled the drunkard into its grasp. A few minutes later, it claimed the broken girl beside him.

When Éponine woke to the sun filtering through the window she'd climbed through, she became very aware of the arm that was casually draped over her. She stiffened, then relaxed, relishing in her first gentle embrace since her mother passed away.


	4. Short-Lived Freedom

Gavroche was short of breath. His ruined shoes beat the ground with a childish ferocity; His blond mop was soaked through with sweat and the shaking image of suburbia was slowly dissipating into red. He came to a panting halt by the trailer. The moon was making a slight, pale indent in the smokey sky, and Gavroche could hear the growing sound of the sirens, on their way to arrest his family.

Once he caught his breath and appeared less desperate, he bounded into the trailer. "Hey, family!" He was answered with a scowl from his father and Montparnasse, and with a blank stare from Azelma. Éponine was nowhere in sight. "Where's Ép?"

"Didn't come home last night... Probably sleepin' around, the teasing slut." Montparnasse sulked, and Gavroche was filled with hope. Maybe she wouldn't come home tonight, either, and she would be...

Just then, a timid face appeared in the trailer. Gavroche whirled around and pushed her back out into the October night.

"Gavroche, what?" She hissed, and he was still struggling for breath as he pulled her to the boys' RV.

"No... Time... To... Explain." He said, and pulled her inside. Courferyac was alone, to Éponine's obvious disappointment, and he was pouring over a stat textbook. He looked up, his hair disheveled and his eyes bleary as he regarded the siblings. He managed a tired smile in their direction.  
"Ép had a homework question." Gavroche said, shoving her forwards and towards the college boy. Smart as she was, she played along, asking Courferyac about imaginary numbers and functions. He answered her questions in great detail, for they were actually quite simple questions that Éponine knew the answer to.

While she and Courferyac were talking, Gavroche poked his head out of the RV. He saw the flashing lights as the police left the Jondrette home, presumably with three obnoxious individuals in tow.

"Thanks, Couferyac!" Éponine said cheerfully. He nodded and put his attention back to his stat book, for once lacking cheer (Éponine HAVING it, for once).

As she and Gavroche left the RV, Éponine pulled her brother aside and asked him, softly, "What was all that about?"

He smiled a cheeky grin and pulled her back to her 'home'. It was empty, and Éponine's face dawned in realization. She didn't ask, for, quite frankly, she didn't want to know.  
She laughed and picked up her brother with difficulty. The two spun around the empty trailer, laughing and dancing. Finally, they sobered down and Éponine remembered a certain piece of paper in her pocket. She pulled it out and Gavroche's eyes widened in hunger.

"Pizza?" He asked.

"Pizza."

* * *

The week trailed on, and Gavroche added his granola bars to a food stash that began with their large pizza, so the brother and sister were actually well fed. Gavroche was happy, and Éponine put on that masque, for she had finally done the deed. That Monday, after school, she brought Marius to the jewelry store. Through the window, she watched as he and Cosette chatted excitedly, both of them blushing like little schoolgirls.

But even her broken heart couldn't completely contain the exulting feeling of being able to sleep without a new bruise painting her. And Gavroche, he was finally a brother again, like he'd been so many years prior at the inn, where she'd raised him, thinking it to be a fun, maternal game.

On Wednesday, it was a late night for both Jondrette siblings. Éponine was helping Gavroche complete a particularly difficult math worksheet, and trying to complete her Social Studies study guide at the same time. She had her pencil in her hand, her arm draped over Gavroche, and his head resting on her shoulder and her head on his. They were comfortable, they were happy.

Gavroche finally finished and tucked the slip into the over-large pocket in his jacket- which served as his make-shift backpack. He climbed into the bed with freshly-washed sheets and within minutes she could hear his slow breathing.  
Éponine smiled. Somehow, she knew that this was what she wanted. For the first time, she felt like this was HOME, that she was part of a family. The only thing that would complete this dream that she was living would be if Marius was hers...

Little did she know that the person ambling towards the trailer would indirectly give her something better. This person had a bottle of cheap whiskey in hand, the bottle of which was weakly made and would shatter upon impact with the ground. The person paused for a moment, smirking at the light that shined from the inside of the trailer.

He stepped into the light, and went to the door. As usual, it was open. He stumbled into the main room to see her working diligently on the floor, using a textbook as a desk. He watched her for a moment, and she was so focused on her work that she didn't notice his presence. He spoke up, jarring her. "Nothing turns me on like a schoolgirl."

He snickered when she leapt to her feet like an electrocuted cat. She carefully put down the work and stood by the bed protectively. "I thought you were arrested."

"You thought wrong." Montparnasse walked towards her with a drunk swagger in his steps, and she walked around him, her eyes wide and her hands made into useless little fists. "And I've been laying low for a while, and it's been lonely without your sister to accompany me."

Éponine's blood ran cold. Of course Parnasse would stoop that low, he DID hang out with her father after all. It still shocked her, though, to think of her little sister's innocence being taken by a boy as mean as Montparnasse. She couldn't imagine him being gentle.

"She's decent, but what I really want, Éponine, is you." He made his way to her. She was still frozen in shock, and unable to fight off his hands as he pulled her shirt down so that her shoulders were bare. She pulled the top back into place, but he was persistent, and she finally turned to him and looked him in the eye. "I'll do whatever you want, just let me finish my homework first."

He snorted, but sat on the floor to wait. He raised up the bottle as if in a toast, and said, "I'll finish this bottle before you finish that work!"

Being as there were only dregs left, Éponine doubted that it would take very long. She sat and tried to return her attention to her homework, but she couldn't. She kept looking over at Gavriche and praying that he was asleep enough that he wouldn't hear anything happen.

After a few minutes, there was the feel of wet lips on her neck and she pushed him away. He continued kissing her like an assassin, with harsh pecks along her shoulders and neck.

She was annoyed, but she could handle it. She just acted as if there was nothing going on until there was a loud sound. That was all she registered at first, and then there was the pain as the glass tore the skin on her shoulder to pieces. She collapsed to the floor, her papers flying everywhere amidst the screaming that filled the room. She turned her noise into a painful moan, but it was too late, for Gavroche had already been roused, and he was looking at her in horror.

"Gavroche," She said, her teeth clenched, "Go next door for a little bit, okay?"

Glass covered the floor, and she could see a few pieces dig into Gavroche's feet as he stood from the dilapidated bed. Her head was pressed to the floor, a piece of whiskey-stained glass pressed against her cheek. Then Parnasse was on top of her, ripping the clothes off her back and tugging her into a standing position. She had tears streaming down her cheek and her skin stung like she had been pierced by a thousand bee stingers. Montparnasse grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her down into the bed, pushing past Gavroche in the process.

Suddenly, his pressing weight was off her and Gavroche was yelling. "Get away from her!"

His sentence was cut off by a cry of pain. Éponine forced herself up and screamed. Blood was blossoming across her brother's chest, made by a shallow wound that Montparnasse gave him with a particularly large piece of glass.

"Gavroche! Next door, please!" Éponine cried, full of fear and pain. This time he obeyed her, rushing out of the trailer of hell before Parnasse could hurt him again. She shuddered, certain that she would pass out from blood  
loss, and she got ready to be taken by the handsome, sleazy boy who she'd managed to avoid for so long.

She still pushed him back with as much strength as she could muster, but she was close to giving up when a God burst into the trailer.


	5. Apollo and Selene

Enjolras rested his head against the wall. He was tired, but Combeferre was still studying intensely with Joly. They had Courferyac's RV to themselves, for he and Marius had fencing practice. Courferyac went because he planned to help as an assistant coach.

Still, the setting was peaceful. He had the TV on some documentary on a failed revolution, and he had a huge can of tea in his hand. He finished studying for his AP History test, but Joly and Combeferre were only just making a dent in their studying for Health class. Enjolras personally didn't know WHY they had to study for Health, but they seemed quite focused.

Until, a few minutes after nine, a familiar and pale face burst in. "Help! Please!"

Enjolras leapt to his feet. Gavroche was standing in the doorway, more like shaking, and clutching a hand to his bleeding chest. Joly looked up and ran over, barking instructions at Combeferre. Gavroche was still uneasy, though, and he grabbed Enjolras's wrists.

"You have to help her! PLEASE!" He was near tears, and Enjolras was lost. He bent down to be at the boy's level.

"Who needs help?" He asked, cooly.

"Éponine! Montparnasse is..." He couldn't finish, and the tough little boy was suddenly wracked with sobs. Joly looked at Enjolras with fear in his eyes.

"She lives in the trailer next door... God, what the fuck is happening?" Joly cried, and since Enjolras couldn't help with Gavroche's injury, he took it upon himself to go to the trailer. He remembered the girl, and the reason why he felt bad for her. For someone so helpless to be anywhere near Montparnasse...

Enjolras shuddered and pushed open the door. Sure enough, Montparnasse was on top of a girl, who was weakly trying to push him away. The dim light kept Enjolras from seeing most of the scene, but he could smell the horrible stench of blood. He crossed the room in a few desperate steps and knocked out the drunk teenager with a singular blow to the temple.

Once her attacker was unconscious, the girl managed to push him off, and he tumbled to the ground and collapsed in a smelly heap.

Enjolras looked at the girl with concern. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her lips pressed together and her dull eyes staring at him. Since she'd been barely a flash that day in the park, Enjolras hadn't gotten much of a chance to observe her. And here she was, the very picture of pain, someone so hurt that it was almost revolting just to think about. Her eyes were dark and yet their color could not be determined. Her hair was stringy and dirty, but had it been properly tended to it would have had a chestnut color. Her face was plain, but bore evidence of past beauty. Had her life been different, she could have been stunning. Instead, she was this bony, meager creature who stood before Enjolras as a thing to be pitied.

"Stop that." She said, and he was slightly taken aback. Her voice was strong and slightly husky, not at all what he was expecting.

"Stop what?"

"That thing that you're doing... With your eyes. Stop it." She seemed to grow quite angry, and Enjolras just looked at her with an expression that was nothing short of perplexed. And the leader of the Friends of the ABC was rarely confused.

"Sorry, I don't-"

"Judging, that's what you're doing." She hissed, and suddenly a flash of pain filled her blank eyes and she whimpered a little bit.

"Not judging. Just observing." Enjolras said, simply. He looked at her closely, and asked in a level voice, "Did he hurt you?"

She looked at him in a way that mocked his cold nature and she replied, "Maybe. What's it to ya?"

"Can I see?" He asked. She reluctantly turned around, and he drew in a sharp breath at what he saw. Her shoulder was scarlet, ripped into tattered pieces of skin, and the wound smelt of iron and whiskey. "How-"

"We were fooling around and he got a little drunk." She sighed, and Enjolras could see right through her veiled lies.

"Bullshit." He wasn't good in the medical field, and Enjolras pulled out his phone. Before he knew it, the device was smacked from his hand and went flying to the glass covered ground. "What the hell?"

"Don't call anyone." She whispered. He could tell that the blood loss was getting to her, and she trembled on the bed. "I'm fine."

"You need help."

"No one can know." She hissed, and stumbled off the bed with some difficulty. Enjolras was at her side and supported her as she went to a plastic container and pulled out a few yellowing ace bandages.

"I don't know how to-" he protested, realizing where she was going with this.

"Figure it out." She snapped, but he could tell that she was genuinely worried about her health. She carefully removed her soiled, tattered shirt and sat down facing the wall. Enjolras was unfazed by this and began to carefully wind the bandage around her shoulder. He noticed several other bruises and scars that marred her small body, but he didn't say anything. After a few minutes, she spoke up. "How's Gavroche?"

"I think he'll be fine. He's got Combeferre and Joly tending to him as we speak." Enjolras answered. He pulled back to let her know that he was finished. She turned around, not bothering to preserve any of her modesty, and he averted his eyes from her bare breasts.

She fumbled under the bed before grabbing a man's shirt, which she pulled around herself like a jacket. She looked at him, her eyes like his: ice cold and blunt.

"Make sure your friends don't say nothing either."

Enjolras was too shocked at her lack of thanks to correct her grammar. But he did manage to say, "He's still here... Where are your parents?"

"Jail. I'll probably go to Grantaire's or something. I just need to figure something out for Gavroche."

"Why are you looking out for-"

"Oh," She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed with pain. "He didn't tell you, did he? I'm his sister."

* * *

That night, Enjolras returned to his empty house. His footsteps echoed in the foyer, the darkness swallowing him whole. He never bothered to turn on the light; it would only remind him of the loneliness of this 'home'.

It was a big house, and yet only one room was regularly used. Enjolras climbed the staircase and went down the cavernous hallway to the third bedroom on the right. He opened the door, revealing a cozy bedroom that was painted red and orange. He had flags of the world lining the wall, and his bed was neatly made with a black comforter. He immediately felt terrible, remembering the conditions in which Éponine and Gavroche lived.

He made a mental note to ask if they wanted to stay with him before he collapsed -fully clothed- on his bed.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not very happy with this chapter... But they finally interacted! **

**If I make any mistakes or typos, don't be afraid to let me know!**

**Review, s'il vous plaît, mes amis. **


	6. His Angel

Éponine didn't manage to get much sleep; her hurt shoulder pained her too much for her eyes to properly close. Grantaire was suspicious when she told him that she was fine, but he understood the desperation behind the word so he said nothing.

Even a fourth of brandy didn't help her, and so she gave up on sleep and perched in the window, grating her teeth at the pain that came from leaning against anything. The window was half open, so her forehead rested against the glass that kept the chill from entering the upper part of the window.  
Éponine drew her arms tighter around her skinny, bruised body and tried to hold in the tears. Azelma was gone. Gavroche was barely there. Marius was never hers to lose. And now she felt as if she was losing herself and she could do nothing about it.

A soft scratching sound drew her attention back to the dim room, and when her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a disheveled Grantaire, furiously scratching out something on a sketchpad. The charcoal in his hand was barely a stub, and his red-rimmed eyes were the only sign of the fact that he was under the influence.

She watched him for a few moments until he looked up and frowned. "Turn back around, will you? I'm almost done."

An amused smile twitched on her lips as she did as she was told. She took in the sky with her dark eyes and watched as the horizon turned a lighter shade of blue, telling of the fast-approaching Thursday morning.

Grantaire's satisfied sigh came from behind her and she turned to see him flip the cover back over the pad. She descended from the window, her bare feet hitting his hardwood floor with a soft thud. "Were you drawing me?" Her voice was soft, and although she felt a little as though he was invading her privacy, she was touched.

"Yeah. I actually have to turn in a rough sketch today for AP Art. It works out well." They laughed for a few seconds as Grantaire roughly shoved the pad in his bag. Then she spoke, her voice filled with everything she had tried to hide from Grantaire.

"Why couldn't I love you instead?"

His answer was much quicker than she expected. "Because Marius is a hot piece of ass."

"I thought you said you weren't gay?"

"There are some things that one can't deny and there are some that are gay. That was on the border." He managed a crooked grin, but then his dark blue eyes softened and he said, "I wish I could love you as well."

"Well, the marble man is quite handsome, if I say so myself." Éponine winked and Grantaire smirked.

"Marble man... I think I like that." Then his face became serious, and he looked at Éponine with a newfound wariness. "When did you see him up close?"

She averted her eyes, but his hand found its way around her small, bruised wrist. He watched her closely. She couldn't put on the guise for much longer and her face crumpled. He took her in his arms, apologizing profusely. She pushed him away and went over to the bed and collapsed into the soft surface.

"He helped me last night... When I ran into a slight... Problem."

"Montparnasse." Grantaire filled in. "Did Enjolras... What did-"

"He punched him, and helped me clean up," She said, and, noting the shocked expression on Grantaire's face, added hurriedly, "That's it."

"He... Punched someone?" Grantaire moaned when Éponine nodded. "Shit. Éponine, do you realize how bad this is? Enjolras hates physical violence. He once didn't talk to me for a week when I jokingly punched Bahorel in the stomach."

Éponine shrugged and said with a hint of bitterness, "Well, he saw Montparnasse on top of me, and I AM a helpless female..."

"It's just-" Grantaire stopped for a moment and looked at little Éponine. She wasn't hideous, it was almost as if she was hiding her prettiness behind dirt and despair. And he realized what Enjolras' actions unconsciously said. And he had to hold back a smile. A plan rooted itself in his alcohol-infused brain, and he chose his next words carefully. "It's just... The colorful veins in marble run deep and dark."

She just looked at him, one messy eyebrow raising and tearing a little at the stitches on her cheek. "So he's really mad at Montparnasse?"

Grantaire could barely hold back his desire to laugh loudly and ruefully. She didn't get it. "Sure, Éponine. That's enough to knock Apollo from his pedestal."

* * *

Enjolras made a note to find Grantaire and compliment his skills. For a useless drunk, he had incredible talent. One of his drawings hung on the wall outside the art room, and Enjolras couldn't look away. The charcoal sketch depicted a slender woman with her face turned away from the artist. She was curled in a small window with her knees tucked up against her chest. Grantaire had drawn a flowing dress on her, but somehow Enjolras could tell that it was added after the initial drawing. Her hair, darkened with expert shading on Grantaire's part, tumbled down her bony back. Her bare arms bore bruises and her shoulders slumped slightly forward, displaying to the viewer the woman's pain. He'd called it, "Injured Angel".

Enjolras, who wasn't one for art, suddenly wanted to see the woman's face. Not for her apparent beauty, but simply so that he could see the pain straight on. A voice suddenly said from behind him, "'Injured Angel'? Really?"

He reluctantly took his eyes off the art and looked towards the speaker. It was the girl from the night before, with the dull eyes and the stitched-up scar. She wore an expression of being both flattered and hurt. And he knew. He knew that she was the woman in the picture. He knew that Grantaire had (thankfully) excluded her mangled back from the drawing. He knew that she caught him staring at her. (Or, a drawing of her)

When she recognized him, her face switched emotions almost too quickly for him to decipher them. First she seemed to soften, then she looked pained, then angry, then guilty, and finally she managed a mask of indifference.

"Oh, it's you." He said for sake of something breaking their silence. She grimaced, before she gently tried to usher him in the direction of the stairwell. He tugged his wrist out of her grasp.

"What are you doing?" He asked, trying to keep he confusion out of his voice.

"I need to talk to you. In private."

He nodded, and allowed himself to be led into the abandoned south stairwell. He should have known better. Really, who would willingly go into an empty place with a secretive, emotionally unstable teenage girl?

As soon as the door closed behind them, she shoved him against the wall with a sudden and surprising surge of strength. She had a knife out in a flash of silver and it was pressed against his neck. His heart started to race

"There are cameras, you know." He said, and she jerked her head in the direction of the security camera. The device had been turned around to face the corner in opposition of revealing the two teenagers."What if someone comes in?"

"The doors are locked."

"You really thought this through, didn't you?"

"Don't. Say. Anything." She hissed, and he knew what she was talking about.

"Is the knife really necessary?" he asked, and she pulled it back a little so that he could see its sharpness. However, one thing caught his eye and kept it.

"Would you stop asking questions?" she said, her voice betraying her nerves. "Will you just promise to say nothing?"

"Yeah, sure." He answered, and she pulled away from him, allowing him release from the uncomfortable position of being pinned against the wall. He dusted off his red hoodie and ran his hands through his hair, still thinking about the knife. Suddenly, he said something that came into his mind. "He put you up to this."

She stiffened, the knife still in her outstretched hand. She nodded, but said nothing. He saw an opportunity and dove for it, taking advantage of her loosened grip. He plucked the knife from her hand and put it in his pocket. She didn't even try to fight. She crossed her arms and glared, her walls being rebuilt once again. "Give it back. It's not mine, you know."

"Whose blood is it?"

She looked down at her shoes- a pair of worn-through gym shoes that were four sizes too big and undoubtedly belonged to Grantaire. Then her voice quivered. "Mine."

He wasn't expecting that as an answer, and he knew that she was telling the truth when he noticed the stitches on her cheek. He took a step forward and gently reached his hand towards the cut. She didn't flinch away; she let the marble man run his fingertips along the stitches in a rare moment of intimacy.

They left the stairwell under a mutual agreement. He knew that she was desperate to keep her abuse a secret, and she knew that he somehow understood her desperation and lonliness. However, Éponine didn't understand the burning in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't the fluttering, light feeling she got from being around Marius, nor the strange mix of longing and repulsion that she felt around Montparnasse. This was different; it felt deeper, and she could have sworn that it almost felt like... Needless to say, it was a strange new feeling that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Enjolras, well... Grantaire was right. The colorful veins in marble run deep and dark.


	7. Kidnapped by a god

Absentmindedly, as Enjolras walked to first period, he put his hand in his pocket only to grab at empty fabric. Scowling, he thought back to how Éponine had gently touched his hip as they parted ways. Damn girl had picked his pocket.

* * *

Éponine skipped her first class and hid out in the theatre dressing room. (Not before stealing a few cigarettes from Grantaire's locker, of course)

She sat in the dressing room on an old stool covered in paint stains. She lit the cigarette and inhaled, holding the smoke for as long as she could until she needed air. When she released her held breath, the smoke emerged from her chapped lips and filled the small room with a cloudy haze. The smoke ran over the mirror, and when it cleared Éponine got a good look at her reflection.

She was small, almost gnarled. Her shoulders stuck out at odd angles and seemed permanently slumped forwards. Her breasts were fleshy enough to be in existent, but small enough to be hidden if she wore a baggy shirt. Her legs were sticks that seemed barely enough to support her skinny torso. Her cheekbones outlined how gaunt her face was, and her eyes were glittering onyx in hollow sockets. Her mouth was small and the flakes of skin that peeled off her pink lips. It was times like these that she wondered why Montparnasse wanted her.

One word kept running laps in Éponine's head.

_Ugly. Ugly. Ugly._

* * *

Enjolras didn't know when he made his plan, but once he did it seemed like nothing mattered more. After second period, he confronted Grantaire by the art room.

"I need you to do something for me." He said, stiffly. Grantaire chuckled, his breath already smelling of brandy.

"No 'Hiya Grantaire!'? No 'I was staring at your sketch for an hour, Grantaire'? Looks like Apollo needs to work on his manners." He said, and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Grantaire, it amazes me that you have that much artistic talent despite the fact that you are usually a useless alcoholic. Anyway, isn't it a little early to be drunk?" He asked, and Grantaire shook his head.

"Touché"

"Point is, I need you to get that girl to come to the meeting today." Enjolras said.

Grantaire snorted. "She won't come. She's got plans with-"  
"Montparnasse. I figured." Enjolras snapped, and Grantaire actually felt his confidence waved for a second.

"I'll try, but I'll give no guarantees. Why do you want her there so badly?" He pulled a water bottle and took a gulp from it. Judging by his grimace, it wasn't water.

"We're talking about domestic violence. She's the kind of person we're trying to help, Grantaire. Plus, if we can get her away from him for just one day..."

"Fine. Make sure Marius is coming-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about Pontmercy."

"It's the only thing I can use to get her to come." Grantaire pointed out. Enjolras rolled his eyes but nodded; he didn't understand how some people could be blinded by love.

"All right." He nodded crisply and started to walk away when Grantaire grabbed his arm.

"She has a name you know. It's Éponine Jondrette."

_Éponine_.

Enjolras would never admit it to anyone, but he thought that it was a beautiful name for an injured angel.

* * *

"I don't want to." Was all she said. Grantaire groaned and leaned against her locker, slamming it shut.

"Marius will be there." He pointed out. She froze, her hand half-way to the combination lock. She turned to him, her dark eyes gleaming with frustration.

"That's a cold card to play." She pushed past him and out the front doors. He followed, murmuring under his breath about 'the things I do for you, Apollo'.

Before she could make it to the parking lot (and to an impatient Montparnasse), Grantaire managed to stop her with a hand on her shoulder. She made a squeaking noise that sounded somewhat like a suppressed shriek of pain. He said nothing, he just turned her around and forced her to look him in his pleading, navy eyes.

Éponine and Grantaire stood in the courtyard of the high school. The sun warmed the air but the breeze was biting- the October wind not letting up for anything. Joly's jacket wasn't proving to be much and Éponine, although not to eager to go with Montparnasse, was looking forwards to the warmth that the heat in his old Ford would provide. She tugged away from Grantaire and shook her head, sadly.

Grantaire groaned and gave up, going inside. Neither of them noticed the handsome boy who was watching them from behind the fountain.

The boy made his move once the courtyard was mostly clear. He lunged for the freshman, his strong arms circling around her small waist. She squealed as he tossed her over his shoulder."C'mon, Grantaire, put me down. I don't want to go to your fucking meeting!" She said, exasperated. When he didn't respond, she started pounding his back with her bony fists. "Seriously! Put. Me. Down!"  
She froze once she realized something. This person was far too muscular to be Grantaire. They also smelled a hell of a lot better, too. She had no clue who this was, and this scared her more than anything.

Éponine suddenly seemed to have a seizure, her arms and legs flailing wildly. She heard an indignant, pained noise emerge from her captor when one of her feet made contact with his vulnerable side.

When she was finally put down, she stumbled away from him, not realizing that she was in a room full of people. "What the hell?"

The one who basically kidnapped her was the marble man himself, standing over her in all of his glory, a smirk gracing his usually stony face. He held out his hand to her, but she refused, opting instead to stumble to her feet on her own.

"You're coming to this meeting." He said, shortly. She took a step away from him and sneered.

"Why?"

He came close to her and put an arm on the desk behind her, pinning her so that she couldn't try to escape without causing a scene. His eyes widened almost innocently as he said, "Must I bring up-"

"Fine. You win, rich boy." She shoved past him and settled in a chair in the back. She knew that (eventually) Gavroche would show up and she would have company other than Grantaire (who she was still quite angry with).

Enjolras sat on one of the desks in the center of the classroom, and began to speak. All thoughts Éponine had occupying her head vanished when his words washed over her. She wanted so desperately to find something to hate about his words, but she couldn't. Occasionally one of the other boys would come in with their own words, but those comments were like nails on a chalkboard compared to the warm waves of Enjolras' speech. She was vaguely aware of Marius coming in with Courferyac and Gavroche, but she didn't move.

Once the meeting adjourned, Grantaire turned to her with his bottle to his lips and his eyebrows reaching dangerous heights. She groaned.

"Fine. The meeting was better than I expected. I didn't really understand what you were talking about, but I liked when Enjolras talked. He's got a way with words, you know. I don't even know if I agree with him, but he's got a good... Give me some of that, will ya?"

She reached for the bottle of bourbon just as someone came up behind her. She gagged a little; it was too sweet for her taste.

"Jondrette, you're just a kid. Put that bottle down." A silvery voice said from terribly close to her ear. She yelped but did as she was told. When she turned, it was the incredibly (handsome) frustrating blond who seemed to be everywhere that day. "And you like it when I talk?"

"Shut up." Her neck tingled and flushed, and she was vaguely aware of Enjolras' cool fingers brushing over the exposed skin. She quickly flipped her tangled hair so that it hid the bruise. His lips pursed together, but he said nothing. She looked away, suddenly desperate to look somewhere -anywhere- else. Her eyes met those of Marius, and his face lit up when he saw her.

"'Ponine!" He came over to her and brought her in for a crushing hug. Her shoulder screamed in protest, but she endured it in her hazy happiness. He was holding her. Marius Pontmercy was _holding_ Éponine. He let her go and looked at her with a devoted and oh-so-happy gaze. "I owe you. I mean, I owe you BIG. Anything you want, right now."

"What's got you so excited, Mr. Pontmercy?" She asked, cheekily. It was the first time anyone besides her mother or Cosette had called her 'Ponine.

He waved a hand, dismissing the formalities. "It's Marius."

"Well, okay, Mr. Marius." She winked, and he laughed before taking a hold of her hands.

"She loves me too! Oh, thanks to you, I've been introduced to a whole new world." His smile seemed enough to light the whole room, and yet Éponine felt as if she'd never been in a darker place. Grantaire saw this and quickly interrupted Marius.

"Whoa, there Aladdin. She's my designated driver, you'd best let her go." he said. Marius released her hands and walked away, humming something that sounded suspiciously like Taylor Swift. She sighed.

"This sucks." she then looked around to see if anyone was listening. When she saw that no one was, she murmured to Grantaire. "They're not actually in love, are they?"

He shrugged and put a comforting arm over her shoulder. "Who knows? They're young. They're horny."

**A/N: I have three musical references in here! (Not including Les Mis or Aladdin). Two are from the same show and one is from a different one.**

***hint* They're both rock musicals and my lovely Aaron Tveit has been in them both.**

**(Yes, he's mine. I payed and everything)**


	8. Safety on Olympus

Grantaire seemed doubtful when Éponine insisted on going to her place. He walked her to the trailer and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now I see why you want to spend so much time with me."

She elbowed him in the soft spot under his ribs and he grunted in pain. She murmured, bitterly, "Home sweet home."

The trailer and the RV were located in a random tangle of trees right down the street from Musain High School. The two structures were hidden from the road by the low branches. The clearing was just big enough that the separate living spaces were a good six feet apart, but small enough that it sometimes felt a little cramped.

Upon realizing that Éponine wasn't going to say anything else, Grantaire squeezed her hand and left. She was vaguely aware of the roaring of is engine as he drove away, leaving her alone in the clearing.

Éponine walked up to Courfeyrac's RV and tapped on the door. He answered, laughing over his shoulder at something that someone else must have said. "Oh, hey Éponine." He smiled, and a giggling Gavroche ducked under the older boy's arm.

"Hey, Courf'. It's time for Gavroche to come on home." She said, managing a slight smile for the jovial student. Gavroche pouted and tugged at Courfeyrac's shirt sleeve

"Do I have to?" he whined. Éponine chuckled and nodded.

"They need room for both Marius and Courfeyrac. They can barely fit in their mini fridge." She said the last part bitterly, remembering that she had no such thing. Gavroche hung his head, dejectedly.

"But… Ép, they have a TV!" He strained, but Éponine stood her ground. Courfeyrac smiled at her.

"You'd think the kid's never seen a TV before!"

_He hasn't_, she thought, but she said, "Yeah, kids are hilarious. Come on, Gav."

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice said from behind her. She whipped around and scowled.

"Would you stop that, Enjolras?" She snapped. Seriously, though. The boy seemed to enjoy popping up behind her and scaring the living shit out of her. As she cooled down a little, she responded to him haughtily. "And I'm going home."

"It didn't seem like much of a home to me." He said, matter-of-factly. Suddenly infuriated, she ran at him and shoved her arms against his chest. It was almost amusing, seeing this small-boned girl trying to fight the tall God-like youth.

"You don't know me, you don't know my life!" She yelled, and Enjolras did nothing; he let her pound her fists against his chest for it didn't really hurt him. Once she had been reduced to fuming instead of taking action, he stepped forwards and took a hold of Gavroche's shoulder. The kid seemed surprised, but let Enjolras lead him to stand by his sister.

"I'm not pretending to." He told her, calmly. She was confused; if she'd yelled at any of the other men in her life that way, she would be in a bloody heap on the ground. But Enjolras, he was different. "Why don't you guys come and stay with me?" He offered. She shook her head and tugged Gavroche away.

"We're good."

He looked at her, his stony expression never once breaking. "It's not safe."

She burst into a bitter, scary laughter. "_Nothing_ in my life is safe, Apollo. Never has been, never will be."

"Just give it a chance, Jondrette. I have five bedrooms in my house and only one is occupied. My parents are literally _always _out of town. It's a really stupid decision if you don't."

Courfeyrac and Gavroche exchanged a glance, and finally she gave in. "Fine. But I can leave whenever I want. And you have to help me with homework."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "You're staying in _my _house. Shouldn't _you _be paying _me_?"

"It's against my will." She smirked, and he stepped forwards to shake her hand.

"Deal."

* * *

It was nicer than anywhere she'd ever stayed. Back when they owned the 'inn' on that farm in Louisiana, her room was in the barn. To 'keep her away from wandering hands'. At the time, she thought it was splendid. She even made fun of Azelma and Cosette for staying in the house.

At this point in her life, however, she grimaced bitterly at the realization that she'd never once slept in a proper bed. Her mattress back in the trailer was as thin as most people's duvet covers and it was eaten through by maggots. When the lived under a bridge... Well, that one's an explanation in itself.

So when she was shown to her 'room' at Enjolras' place, she thought it was almost too good to be true. He told her that it was meant for his sister who was never born. Although she felt as though that was a piece of personal information, he said it so coolly that she wasn't implied to feel as though he was confiding in her. Gavroche got the game room, wanting to sleep on the leather couch in preference to a bed.

Éponine collapsed on her new mattress. She sank into the soft surface and her dirty hands roamed the 600-thread pink sheets. That was the only bad thing about the room; it was obviously made for a girly girl. The walls were painted a cool mint-green while the crown molding was done in pink. The curtains were sheer and ivory, the sheets were pink, and the furniture was made of a dark red wood.

Then she sat up, quickly thinking of the jack-and-jill bathroom that connected her and Enjolras' rooms. For the first time in her life, Éponine was going to have a proper shower.

* * *

**A/N:**

**... Come on, guys. There are at least six people reading this. If everyone posts a review, imagine how happy I will be!**


	9. Singing to the Gods- In a Fat Suit

**A/N: Enjoy some comic relief- I have a lot in store for our favorite characters.**

* * *

Éponine looked up from her copy of Romeo and Juliet. It was her second night in the Enjolras household, and despite the many rooms in the large house, she picked the study as her favorite. It was a cozy little room, with a grand mahogany desk in one corner and a plump sofa in the other. The sofa's arm was wide enough to serve as a table, and it was situated right beneath the window that looked out to the backyard. At sunrise, one could see the New York skyline stenciled against the sun.

Coincidentally, Enjolras' favorite room was also the study. He didn't want to kick her out of the only room that she seemed to really take to, and yet her constant humming was an unwelcome distraction from his homework.

Gavroche loved the game room, and badgered Enjolras to buy a twelve-pack Dr. Pepper for the mini fridge. It was a 10-year-old's heaven. That second night, Gavroche had crashed from his sugar high around seven in the evening, leaving only Éponine and Enjolras awake and working. However, as Éponine viewed from her spot on the couch, Enjolras cursed under his breath and stood up hurriedly, looking at his phone intently.

"Shit. I'm going to be late." He reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a drawstring bag. He dashed out the study and a confused Éponine heard the roaring engine as he drove away, the car's headlights temporarily flooding the study as he backed out.

She shrugged and went back to reading. It was a Friday night and he was pretty popular. He probably had places to be and people to see.

* * *

"Okay, this is first year stuff, Grantaire." She huffed in annoyance. "You have to conjugate 'avoir' or 'etre' and then you add the passé compose of the verb."

"I don't get it." He said, plainly. He ran a hand through his already messy hair. The two of them were spending their Saturday night studying. Or, at least attempting to.

"Of course you don't." Éponine sighed. "Remind me; why did I agree to tutor you again?"

"Because you can't resist my sexiness. Hey, does Apollo drink anything besides water?" Grantaire, ever focused on his goal, looked around as if a liquor cabinet would suddenly appear in the study. Éponine snorted.

"You never lose sight of what you want. If only you wanted to pass AP French." She said this and earned a playful knock over the head from Grantaire with his French-to-English dictionary.

"Now you're starting to sound like Enjolras." He took his papers and messily shoved them in his messenger bag. Once he managed to close the flap, he turned to Éponine and made a face, resting his chin on his hands in a mock-excited expression. "Do tell, Mademoiselle Jondrette. What's it like living with a marble statue?"

"Not too bad. He's got money, which is nice, and he doesn't bother me too much. Did you know that he doesn't eat Gluten? He's got some kind of disease or something. I think it's called-"

"Celiac's." Grantaire completed. "Sorry, continue."

"Anyway, the gluten-free cookies are actually really good. I think I've eaten an entire pack of the fake Oreos already. The only weird thing-" She started, but then she hesitated. Grantaire looked at her expectantly. "Never mind. It's nothing important."

"Éponine Evelyn Jondrette-"

"That's not my middle name."

"Do you realize how big this is? Enjolras _never_ does anything even remotely weird. What did he do?" Grantaire leaned really close to Éponine, his face akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. She playfully shoved him back, crinkling her nose at the terrible stench of his breath.

"He left suddenly yesterday without a word besides, and I quote, 'I'm going to be late'. He probably just had a date or something." She said, and Grantaire shook his head, looking mesmerized.

"No, he didn't."

Just then, Enjolras came barging into the study. He looked up and met their eyes for a moment. "Is Grantaire actually doing something that doesn't involve a bottle?"

Éponine pretended that she didn't see the way her friend flinched at the blonde's harsh words. She spoke up instead; interrupting Enjolras from his intent search for what Éponine assumed was the bag from the night before. "Where are you going?"

He paused, for a moment looking genuinely frightened. "Um... Nowhere. Goodbye."

He left again, and once he did the two misfits on the couch shared a glance. "Well that _was_ weird."

Éponine frowned, a crease appearing to the left side of her nose. "I wonder where he's going."

Grantaire smirked, his eyes wild. Then he stood up and rushed into the foyer, dragging the girl behind him. "GAVROCHE!"

"What are you doing?" She asked him, incredibly lost. He fished his car keys out of his pocket and waved them in front of her face.

"We're following him, of course."

* * *

Whatever the three of them were expecting, it sure as hell wasn't what they got. They followed Enjolras' car to a church a good ten miles away. They waited until he went inside before they got out of the car and followed him. Grantaire led the way inside, caught off guard by the crowd in the small lobby. None of them paid attention to what they were buying tickets for, but they found themselves ushered into a high-budget theatre. It was once they sat in the back that Éponine asked him, "Where is he?"

Grantaire shrugged as Gavroche nudged her shoulder. "Ép, I found him…"

Grantaire practically threw himself on Éponine's lap to get a look at what the boy was pointing to. It was the program that only Gavroche thought to pick up. The brochure read, 'Hairspray!'. On the first page was a list of the main cast members, and Enjolras' picture was among the list. However, there was no list of roles, so the three sat in eager anticipation as they waited for the curtain to rise.

Thirty minutes later, Grantaire murmured what both he and Éponine were thinking. "I'm way too sober for this."

Enjolras was cast in a drag role; he was playing Edna Turnblad.

They were never going to let him live this down.

At intermission, Éponine grabbed Grantaire's phone and dialed Enjolras' number. He picked up on the third ring and his voice was hushed. "Grantaire, I'm too busy for your drunken rants about Greek Gods."

"Enjolras, this is Éponine." She made her voice shaky and hit Grantaire's arm when he started giggling at her somber tone.

"What's wrong?" He asked, suddenly sounding worried. "Has something happened? Are you okay? What about Gavroche?"

Éponine, although flattered that she was the first person he thought of, continued on her act. "There... There's someone in the house. I'm scared! It's an intruder and I'm sure of it!"

Grantaire had collapsed to the ground, tears streaming from his eyes as he clutched his sides in silent laughter.

"Éponine... Have you called 911? Where's Grantaire?" His voice was frantic, and she could hear people shushing him on his line.

"What will 911 think of two random kids in your house? And Grantaire's drunk. Please hurry, Enjolras. I'm really scared." She put as much sarcasm as she could into her last sentence, but he didn't catch on, and he cursed.

"Shit. I'll be right there. Don't move, okay? I'm coming." He almost yelled into the phone; there was a click as he hung up. Sure enough, a desperate Enjolras broke curtain, struggling to pull a sweatshirt over his fat suit. He tripped over Grantaire's body and sprawled in the isle. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and he muttered an apology to Grantaire. When he yanked the cloth so that his face was visible, he saw the three of them by copious amounts of laughter.

"You're… _EDNA TURNBLAD._" Éponine wheezed, and Enjolras glared at her from underneath his blond curls.

"Haha, very funny. Let's get Enjolras kicked out of the only think he's ever loved." He snapped, and Grantaire offered him a hand to get up. Enjolras slapped the other boy's hand away and stood on his own, glowering the entire way up.

"We're never going to forget this, you now." Gavroche piped up, and Enjolras sighed in defeat.

"After the show I'll buy pizza and ice-cream." He offered, his icy eyes, for once, a little panicked.

"Make it Chinese take-out and chocolate and you've got a deal." Éponine smirked, and the two shook hands.

She tried to ignore the sharp tingle she felt in her fingers when they touched. Little did she know that Enjolras felt the same thing.

* * *

**A/N:I don't know why, but I actually like this chapter... ;)**

**And about the review thing, I shouldn't be writing solely for reviews. But they make me feel good, ya know? I know for a fact that I'll read something and not review, thinking that it won't make a difference to the author. I'm a little bit of a hypocrite in this respect, but I just thought I'd let you know how much it brightens my day to see that little "new review" email alert. :**

**ANYWAY. Did anyone catch the How I Met Your Mother reference? Or the reference to my other fic, 'History in the Making'? (Shamelessly promoting my other story... Like a boss)**


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